


#ThingsAndyandITalkedAboutOnTheCabRide

by honestys_easy



Category: Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M, New York City, Taxis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestys_easy/pseuds/honestys_easy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy and David get some coveted alone time in a Manhattan taxicab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#ThingsAndyandITalkedAboutOnTheCabRide

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was spawned by [David's tweet](http://twitter.com/#!/thedavidcook/status/134019017974362112) about he and Andy taking a cab to the Ronald McDonald House benefit concert on November 8--which so happened to be the day before Andy's birthday. Also of note: New York City yellow taxis now have a television in the back of the cab that shows riders their destination route, the weather forecast, the local news of the day, and any advertisements for ABC affiliated TV shows they want to promote. Just to clear that up in case no one knows what I'm talking about, lol :P

The meter’s already running by the time they cram themselves into the backseat, the glaring red numbers ticking up, up as the Manhattan sunset goes down. It’s barely a ten minute drive from the hotel to the benefit, even with rush hour traffic, but Andy’s thankful they caught the ride regardless, his guitar too precious to him to take it on a walk through Midtown. Besides, he’s learned over the past few years, walking on a crowded street with his current companion usually leads to unwanted attention, and, inevitably, autographs and photo-ops.

And, Andy thinks with a snicker as David slides into the taxi next to him, his diva of a boyfriend doesn’t _walk_ anywhere anymore.

David lists off the cross streets of the benefit like a natural, his inner compass taking to New York like Andy never could, preferring to just let Alexis lead the way through her city. Letting David take control of their navigation, Andy rolls his head back against the worn leather seat, closing his eyes and letting out a weary groan. From the Ohio airport, to the stuffy plane, to the eighty minutes of sleep afforded to him in the past two days, Andy feels constantly on the move, with barely any time to rest or shit or even acknowledge that tomorrow is his birthday.

Speaking of his birthday... “Remind me to call Lexie,” he mumbles, his voice barely louder than the glaringly boring informational video on the taxi’s screen, highlighting all the New York attractions David and Andy never have time to visit. “Gotta meet up with her after this. She’ll kill me if we leave before I see her.”

When he receives no answer, Andy opens his eyes to slits, catching sight of David whispering something to the cabbie, a bill surreptitiously exchanging hands through the plexiglass window. Andy arches an eyebrow quizzically; when the light hit it just right he swore he saw that the bill had Franklin on its face.

But in the next moment David’s eyes are on him, the taxi’s engine revving up to pull into Sixth Avenue traffic. “Of course,” he replies, with a smile so infectious it even pierces through Andy’s exhaustion. He matches it with his own, a soft laugh in his throat as his eyes close again. “Can’t have the Skiblings miss each other on a birthday.”

“Not my birthday yet,” Andy reminds him, another seven hours separating him from twenty-six. But there is still much to fit in between those seven hours, and he groans just thinking about it, and the time tomorrow he’ll spend sitting in airports and flights to South Carolina when he’d rather be celebrating.

He feels a poke at his side, and David’s settled down in the seat next to him, watching Andy’s face flicker in and out of the orange streetlights as the taxi makes its way uptown. “You call yourself old and I’ll throw you out of this moving cab,” he warns, earning another laugh from Andy.

“It’s not that. It’s just...” Andy shrugs, that poking finger at his side melting into a familiar caress, David’s hand stroking his side through his shirt while the other comes to rest on his knee. He hums in contentment, momentarily forgetting his train of thought; David’s touch does that to him, sometimes, though recently those skilled hands haven’t gotten much of an opportunity. “Hate having to travel on my birthday. Even to New York.” He lets his head drop to the side, catches David’s eye with a warm smile. The taxi makes a right, and he suspects it’s going to Broadway, but Andy’s got a shit sense of direction here, and with the way David’s soothing hands feel on him, he’s content to let the ride take as long as it needs.

“I could’ve just left you in Ohio and taken Devin.” The glint in David’s eye tells Andy how empty of a threat this is, that he always planned to take Andy to this benefit; that it would have been no fun at all if David chose to bring Devin and not his boyfriend. “Birthday in New York sucks compared to Ohio.”

Another laugh, one Andy keeps going a little longer than typical just to capture that extra second of David’s face smiling like he means it. “Just happy to get off that bus for a day...” He stretches, his back arching, feeling his vertebrae crack and complain. It’s fucked up to admit a trip to Manhattan feels more spacious than his current living conditions, but at least Andy knows it. “Feel like this cab’s the only place I haven’t heard Monty snore or Kyle fart for a month.”

The arms he’s stretching come to rest along the top of the backseat bench, fingers lazily reaching out towards David. They find purchase along the nape of David’s neck, brushing softly against the hairs he’s letting grow out, reveling in how they tickle his skin. He expects David to lean into the touch, savor it as he usually does, but instead David’s looking straight on at him, that glint in his eye growing brighter, his smirk dangerously wide. Andy’s known him for far too long to imagine any innocent thoughts running through his brain now.

“A place where we’re alone...” The hand at his knee slides up Andy’s jeans, David’s sure, strong hand gripping just slightly as he inches it up Andy’s thigh. “Good place to rest as any, Andy...”

“Dave,” he sighs, feeling the familiar swelling of his heart and his gut that he’s come to expect when he’s so close to David. Andy’s breathing picks up when that wandering hand comes even closer, David’s thumb resting against Andy’s pelvis, close enough to feel the heat through his pants but so, so far away. “We don’t have time for this,” he protests, and yet still his hand tightens at David’s neck, pulling him in closer. “We’re gonna be there soon--”

David laughs, his face only inches from Andy’s. “You really are shit at directions, aren’t you.”

He’s been so focused on the lulling hum of the engine and David’s hand on his leg that Andy has no idea where the taxi has taken them. A quick glance out the window and he’s certain they’re not on Broadway anymore, the provincial tree-lined Riverside Drive greeting him as they made another leisurely left.

Left, left...Andy might get easily lost in Manhattan but he knew well enough that four lefts made a damn circle. And a taxi circling the quiet Upper West Side neighborhood isn’t going to get them to the benefit any time soon.

Andy turns back to David, his eyes widening, as he remembers the bill David slipped the cabbie when he was first hailed. He had thought it might have been a hundred, preposterous at first, but when David’s lips connect with his, breaching any space or privacy in the backseat, that sizable tip is making more sense, now.

David’s kiss is warm and familiar as breathing to Andy, but absolutely nothing about it feels old hat: he’s leaning over, abandoning his own half of the backseat to encroach upon Andy’s, full lips against his, an impatient tongue asking for entrance. Andy gasps in surprise and pleasure, parting his lips automatically and letting David inside; his hand moves from the nape of David’s neck to his head, fingers tangling in his hair. That sudden surge of sensation rushes over him as David presses in closer, his beard coarse and thrilling against Andy’s skin, the warmth of his body hotter than any heat the taxi could provide.

He doesn’t realize how much control David’s taken until he feels the hard taxi door against his back, David creeping in on his space in ch by inch, crowding around Andy until he is all he can feel. Andy moans into David’s open mouth, their tongues dancing together in harmony, the warm emotions spreading through his body manifesting in the bulge in his jeans. It had always been this way, David with the talent to make Andy breathless with just one touch, his cock hard with one kiss...but oh, _fuck_ , this time, _what_ a kiss...

With his hand shifting just an inch closer, David doesn’t disappoint: his palm caresses the outline of Andy’s cock through his jeans, forcing a stuttering moan from his lips. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he whispers, his hips rising up on instinct to meet with David’s touch.

“Wanted you,” David’s stare is intent, his eyes filled with lust, as he watches Andy writhe under his ministrations. “Too fuckin’ long...can’t do anything on that bus...”

Andy thinks fleetingly back to his remarks about Monty’s snores and Kyle’s farts--not too much, because damn, talk about a mood killer--and silently agrees, the tour bus certainly lacks a romantic atmosphere. Though the cramped, informal setting of a yellow taxi’s backseat should have been no better... As David’s mouth moves down to Andy’s neck, kissing and nipping along the jawline, Andy catches the droning sound of the video monitor in the background, the local weatherman reporting that the evening’s outlook looks mild and lackluster.

That damn Sam Champion has no idea what he’s talking about, Andy thinks, as those industrious hands of David’s snap open the button of his jeans and pull down the zipper, tooth by tooth. The sun hasn’t even disappeared from the sky and already Andy’s evening is heating up, and he’s got a feeling it’ll be anything but lackluster.

He reaches out for David, his free hand quickly running down David’s chest, taking a few buttons in its journey. Andy is just finding his destination at David’s waist, feeling a rumble of desire in David’s gut pass through his fingers, when David makes a noise of dissent against Andy’s neck and bats the hand away. Startled, Andy begins to protest, but David pulls his head away, looks up into Andy’s eyes with a burning desire, his lips parted and panting, a fiery determination behind hazel eyes that Andy knows all too well.

“It’s your birthday,” David reminds him, as Andy hazards another touch and reaches for David’s face, running his palm against a bearded cheek, brushing his thumb against David’s full lips. Teasingly David’s tongue darts out between his words, swirls around the tip of Andy’s thumb like it was another part of him. Andy bites his own lip hard to stifle a moan. “I’m the one who’s gotta give you something.”

A smile breaks out against Andy’s thumb, a toothy grin that tells him his boyfriend is very pleased with his own plans, indeed. “What are you gonna give me?” His voice is low and raspy, laced with lust from deep in his throat, and he counters David’s grin with a dirty smirk, as he pulses his hips against David’s hand.

Leaning back in, David whispers against Andy’s lips before reconnecting, the heat of his breath matching the heat of his hand as he slips it confidently under the elastic of Andy’s boxers. “Something _good_.”

He muffles the moan from Andy’s mouth with his own lips, guiding them open to let his tongue inside, as he takes Andy’s cock in his hand, his palm firm against the head. The hips that were just pulsing teasingly before are now bucking into David’s fist; once Andy gets a taste of David’s touch he never wants it to stop, ever. He’s grown from the awkward, gangly teenager that first met David in so many ways, but something like this--kissing and touching and moaning in the backseat of a taxicab--and he feels young again, thrilling him like nothing else.

When his cock hits the cool air of the taxi, David maneuvering him out of his jeans just enough to gain more leverage, Andy whimpers, his brow creased in concentration. “Love you,” he whispers to David, pulling him in, pressing their foreheads together as David starts a passionate, driving stroke. Breathless, he looks down at David’s handiwork, his cock vanishing and reappearing again in his fist, David working the calluses on his fingers against the sensitive head. Choking back a moan, Andy nearly comes from the sight alone, but steels himself long enough for his gaze to flicker back upwards, straight into David’s eyes.

David doesn’t repeat Andy’s affection but he sees it all in his eyes, a smoldering passion in his concentrated stare, a look he doesn’t give to the crowds or the cameras, he reserves it only for him. Andy thinks he could stare forever into those eyes, look through the walls and layers David’s put up to protect himself against public scrutiny, to see the man he’s fallen for so many years ago, back when they couldn’t even afford a taxi ride, much less generously tip the driver for intimate use of his backseat. But David’s wrist twists at the crown and it leaves Andy bucking in his seat, his eyes squeezed shut, letting out a gasp he doesn’t even try to hide.

“You like that?” David watches Andy take in stuttering breaths, mouth open and panting, desperately trying to regain composure. He leans in and plants a kiss at the corner of Andy’s mouth, licking a trail down along his jawline, feeling Andy’s pulse quicken underneath his touch.

As if he even needed to _ask_ : Andy finds himself nodding, his throat eking out a groan as David takes a nip at the hollow of his neck, sucking softly. “Yes,” he manages between gasps of air, surprised at how needy and desperate his voice sounds to his own ears. “Feels so good, Dave, fuck...”

He knows that smile he feels against his skin; David Cook’s nearly got the damn thing patented by now. “Then you’ll love this,” he promises. He pulls away from Andy for only a moment, just long enough for Andy to take notice and begin to protest, only to return, bringing his head down to Andy’s crotch and swallowing his cock in one swoop.

The sound that comes from Andy’s mouth is undignified and loud, drowning out the pre-taped promotion of The View that’s running on loop on the taxi’s monitor; louder even than the taxi’s horn as the cabbie curses out the towncar that just cut in front of them. The two passengers notice nothing, though, oblivious to the world outside of their backseat, David wrapping his lips around Andy’s member and pulling him in deeper down his throat, Andy digging his fingernails into the bench’s worn leather, desperately holding onto sanity.

David was sticking by his promise, and though Andy would usually want to make him eat his words, David’s mouth is rather busy at the moment, and Andy doesn’t mind him being right this time, no, not at all.

He rolls his head back and makes contact with the window, the glass pane cool to the touch. Letting the sensations overtake his body, Andy arches his back, pressing his hips to a deeper angle towards David, the wet warmth of his mouth enveloping him, shielding him from the autumn cold. He threads his fingers through the hair David’s been desperately trying to grow out, torn between tugging at the strands and eliciting moans from his boyfriend, and pressing down with the heel of his palm, probing deeper into David’s mouth.

Dropping his head back down to the sight laid out before him between his legs, Andy chooses the former, pulling at David’s hair with a strained whimper, allowing him to momentarily come up for air. He hears David panting for breath as he releases his cock, a disappointed groan from his boyfriend’s throat telling Andy he’s currently not the only one hard and yearning. They’re separated only long enough for Andy to reposition himself, hoisting one leg onto the seat, spreading himself even wider to give David easier access.

“You’re so fuckin’ good at this,” Andy comments, his words cut off on a gasp as David reaches in again, impatient with the separation, and runs a playful tongue around the head of Andy’s cock. He takes him down again, one of his hands steadily stroking the base, the other creeping slowly up underneath Andy’s shirt, dying to touch him, bring him closer. With the new angle David can take him down deeper, swallowing around the cock as he feels the head bump against the back of his throat; he moans, knowing Andy can feel the vibrations all throughout his body, the one true reason he’s really fucking glad he paid attention to voice coaches all these years.

It takes a few moments for Andy to regain his bearings, stop seeing the stars in front of his eyes and focus again on the pleasure David is giving him. His hips move with more freedom now, and experimentally he grabs the hanging handle above the taxi’s doorframe, allowing him to thrust into David’s mouth, do more than just lay back and enjoy his birthday gift. He’s keening now, his mouth making small, involuntary whimpers every time David pulls up, tongue lapping against his shaft, and then plunging back down to meet Andy’s hips with a groan. Andy doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this, or just how far a hundred dollar tip to the cabbie is letting them go in the backseat.

The warm, coiling feeling in his gut gives him fair warning; it’s a sensation he’s known well ever since he met David, and even more frequent when David could be found between his legs. “Babe,” he whispers, his throat dry, all of his body’s attentions seeming to focus on the mouth on his cock, sliding in and out. “Gonna come...”

The warning’s unnecessary for David: he’s been with Andy so long now, knows the tics and tells of the other man’s body like reading a subway map. Andy’s cock swells in his mouth, aching for release, and David’s wandering fingers feel Andy’s body trembling. He sucks against Andy’s cock harder, with more fervor, his lips a tight seal around the shaft, egging Andy on to completion. David’s fingers wrap around the base, connecting with his lips, the sound of wet skin smacking against skin the only sound in Andy’s ears until a low, loud roar rushes in, his face and his body overcome with heat, and he lets himself go with David’s name on his lips.

Dutifully David milks him dry, his own body surging in sensation when Andy spills onto his tongue and down his throat, enveloping his senses. With steady hands he holds Andy’s hips down, feeling the muscles of Andy’s body spasm against him in protest, aching to fuck his mouth proper, the way they can’t possibly complete in a moving taxi. The shout he hears coming from his boyfriend’s mouth as he orgasms is something David never forgets, never takes for granted, and it sounds better to his ears than any of those damn times he’s announced onto the stage. Andy finally slumps back against the seat when it’s all over, breathing in gulps of air, the hand at David’s head gentling to a softer touch, almost stroking the hairs sweeping across his brow.

“Happy fucking birthday to me,” he manages, his weak smile only a fraction of the bliss he’s feeling circling around his bones, the warmth spreading to his heart.

David releases him after swallowing down every last drop, careful to leave Andy in some semblance of respectability; this was a benefit appearance, after all, and they weren’t in freakin’ Ohio, anymore. He tucks him back in without any protest from Andy, whose limbs have temporarily turned to pudding, and reseals the button of Andy’s jeans with a trail of kisses along his waist.

“Not your birthday yet,” he mirrors the words Andy said before, and gets a throaty, sated laugh as a reward. He rests his head against Andy’s belly, cheek pressed against the cotton of his shirt, staring up at his boyfriend with the loving adoration of a lapdog. “But thought I’d give you a present early. Assumed you wouldn’t mind.”

Andy looks quite serious now, as his hand trails down from David’s hair along his flank, fingers brushing against the front of his pants. “Do you need...?” he begins, but David shrugs him off as best he can, stifling the shiver coursing through his body at Andy’s offer.

“It’s not a present if you’ve got to give one, too,” he reasons. His balls feel like they’re made of lead and the smell of Andy’s come on his breath aren’t helping any with the decision. Lifting his head, he takes Andy’s hand in his and kisses the palm sweetly, never losing eye contact. “Besides, we’ve only got enough time for one diversion.”

As David speaks, the taxi rolls to a stop in front of a building rimmed with towncars, the streetlights streaming into the car’s windows much brighter than on Riverside. A testy valet is waiting for them to open the door and allow themselves to be ushered into the building, while another pops open the trunk to procure the twin guitar cases inside.

Andy laughs; David could’ve had the cabbie drive them to Staten Island and he wouldn’t have ever known the difference. “Guess a hundred dollars doesn’t take you that far in New York,” he jokes, giving David’s hand a quick squeeze before he has to let go, open the taxi door, and face the rest of the evening.

But just as he pops open the latch, the cabbie glances behind him in the rearview mirror, a twinkle in his eye. “It takes you just as far as you need, boys,” he says in an indiscernible accent. The video monitor in the backseat is thanking them for a safe and pleasant journey, and reminding them to generously tip their driver. “And if you need the same sort of ride home, you know who to call.”


End file.
